


Flesh and Blood and a Bad(?) Ending

by draaagon



Series: Flesh and Blood [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draaagon/pseuds/draaagon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, how a random car crash leads Marco and Jean to spend eternity together. (I have a weakness for vampire fics ok)</p><p>Takes place in the same universe as my other Flesh and Blood fic. Timeline-wise, it's probably months later? Maybe a year? It honestly doesn't matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Car Crashes are a Lazy Writing Trope

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember when I wrote this now haha but it's... kind of dark and dramatic and oh well. I just wanted to write something a little creepy. Very little. Teeny bit. Still ends happy because I'm a huge sap.
> 
> You don't have to read the other fic to get it just know that Jean is a loser vampire and Marco thinks he's adorable.

Jean was almost too late.

He found Marco in a side road, trapped in his car like a crushed metal coffin and Jean couldn't hear him breathing, that once-soothing noise that he'd gotten so used to hearing. Marco was stuck, his right side a mess of metal, flesh. The smell of his blood was so thick that Jean actually felt strengthened by it, and that made him absolutely sick.

Marco would die here, Jean was sure. The ambulance (fast approaching, Jean could hear) would arrive on the scene unable to pull him from the wreckage. the firemen, when they arrived, would find only a dead corpse.

From within the wreckage, something shifted. It was enough to remind Jean of the other smell in the air. Gasoline. They didn't have much time. 

Jean didn't hesitate after that. He ripped into the car, tearing the door off its hinges, making way for him to finally reach him. If he'd done something sooner, if he'd just stayed with Marco...

Jean's hands landed on Marcos left shoulder. With all the blood he'd lost, he feels cold. Cold, but not dead, Jean's nose reminded him. That same skin, pale as death now, grips Marco with as much desperation as he tries care.

It... didn't quite work. The weight of the car, the depth of the The debris' grip on Marco's right arm...

Jean pulled and pulled and _ripped_ and he couldn't bring himself to think about that noise or what it meant, he couldn't do that here but, carrying Marco got easier, _so much easier_ and Jean was dragging him out of the wreck and into his arms and he was still cold, still dying and---

"Marco. Marco I'm sorry."

Jean gripped him close and bit into Marco's neck and he _drank,_ tasting Marco's last moments, the drive, the truck, the pain and the fear-- the fear that he would die alone. That he would leave the world not knowing what the ocean smelled like, or how it felt to breathe or even--

Jean saw himself in Marco's memories but he didn't dare look long, didn't dare take this further, all he needed right then was for Marco to be okay, to open his eyes--

When there was no more blood to drink Jean finally pulled back. Only a faint hint of life remained in Marco's pale, bruised form, and now that Jean could breathe again, with Marco's blood running through him, he realized what a poor state Marco was in. His lips were blue, the right side of his face and right arm were completely gone...

Jean had never done this before. He only knew the theory from what he was taught. Drain all the blood, then have them bite you. Or, barring that, have them drink your blood. He wasn't sure how much it would heal Marco, or how much more he could cry before giving up, but he _wouldn't_ he had to keep trying, even if it meant slashing open his thumb to give Marco blood to drink.

"Marco. Please," he pleaded, "Heh, its just like before, remember? Just a nibble." Jean chuckled, hollow as he worked his thumb into Marco's mouth, as his other hand massaged his neck to get him to swallow.

"Please, Marco." Jean gripped him tight, pulling what remained of Marco to his chest even as sobs started to run through him. The blood on Jeans hands and lips had never tasted fouler.

Marco was dead.


	2. Now You Only Have Half-Freckles, Marco.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean freaks out more than Marco but what else is new.
> 
> (This is really short.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trash for writing such a crappy cliffhanger, and trash for finishing this off so short/suddenly but whatever! Someday I might write more, maybe. For now, enjoy.

Jean wakes up to a strange sensation. He opens his eyes and looks down to see Marco, his arm healed and his eye only scarred, not missing. The right side of his face has grown back too. Jean doesn't question it, only sighs like the last of his energy was spent simply worrying. He doesn't even have the energy to get excited. Mostly, he just wants to sleep.

But Marco is drinking his blood.

"Woah, woah, how long have you been doing thaaat--" Jean shudders as Marco trails his tongue over the cut on his finger, drawing the wound open once more. The skin on Jean's hand has turned dry and cold, his whole arm a shade lighter than the night before.

"Marco?"

Marco opens his eyes, but unlike before, his left one is brown and his right one is red. They stare at Jean blankly, completely void of recognition and for a few seconds, Jean is terribly, horribly afraid he's made a huge mistake in turning him. Some people weren't made for it, or maybe he was too late and there just wasnt enough of Marco left. If Marco goes feral, then---

Then Marco smiles sheepishly, like he's just been woken up from a dream and Jean's heart would've leapt if he still had the blood for it.

"Sorry, Jean... I'm really hungry." He looks down at himself, clothes torn and covered in blood and its hard not to guess what happened, obviously, but rather than look suspicious or angry (something Jean feared with dread,) Marco just looks scared.

"Wh-where are we? What happened?" Marco looks around them, eyes darting around with that new edge. It's pitch black but Marco can see perfectly. He looks down at his hands and goes pale. The right one was almost bone white compared to his left.

"Uh, well." Where does Jean even start?

"Jean, you have _a lot_ of explaining to do."

Yeah, he sure did.

**Author's Note:**

> There miiight be some stray tenses here and there. Sorry about that. I randomly liked this one better in past tense.


End file.
